when i see pictures of her (or hear you mention her) i understand what it means to feel one’s blood boil

my heart feels like it’s being squeezed or maybe like a towel being wrung out and all i can think of is how much she looks like me how much prettier she is than me how much better with her words she is than me how much you must have liked her

and then the nausea hits when i realize again that she is who i would be if i had never met you